Skip to main content

Full text of "The Letters Of Horace Walpole Vol I"

See other formats

member my maxim, that you used to laugh at ? Everybody does everything, and nothing comes on'L I am more convinced
of it now than ever.    I don't know whether S------'s was
not still better, Well, 'gad, there is nothing in nothing. You see how I -distil all my speculations and improvements, that they may lie in a small compass. Do you remember the story of the prince, that, after travelling three years, brought home nothing but a nut? They cracked it: in it was wrapped up a piece of silk, painted with all the kings, queens, kingdoms, and everything in the world : after many unfoldings, out stepped a little dog, shook his ears, and fell to dancing a saraband -. There is a fairy tale for you. If I had anything as good as your old song, I would send it too ; but I can only thank you for it, and bid you good night.
Yours ever,
P.S. Upon reading my letter, I perceive still plainer the sameness that reigns here; for I find I have said the same things ten times over. I don't care; I have made out a letter, and that was all my aifair.
Florence, February 27, 1740. N.S.
WELL, West, I have found a little unmasqued moment to write to you ; but for this week past I have been so muined up in my domino, that I have not had the command of my elbows. But what have you been doing all the mornings ? Could you not write then ?—No, then I was masqued too ; I have done nothing but slip out of my domino into bed, and out of bed into my domino. The end of the Carnival is frantic, bacchanalian; all the morn one makes parties in
* See the Comtesse d'Aulnoy's fairy-tale, The White Cat,